


Cotton

by PuddinPop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allergy fic, Between cases, Brotherly Fluff, Brotherly feels, Caring!Sam, Dean is allergic to cottonwood trees?, Fluff, Gen, Gift Fic, Impala, Impala Fic, One Shot, Sam is a Little Shit, Sam really cares about Dean, Sneezing, allergic!Dean, embarrassed!Dean, pure self indulgence, sassy!Sammy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddinPop/pseuds/PuddinPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester - strong, infallible, invincible. After saving the world so many times, there is nothing that can beat him. </p><p>Well, maybe there is one thing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cotton

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gingerdean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerdean/gifts).



> This is a short little-oneshot that I wrote for gingerdean~! It was kind of a Christmas present, but I'm posting here late because I'm terrible.

 

There were a lot of things in this world that Dean had considered to be ‘ _Sam things_ ’; reading books, visiting museums or libraries, eating nothing but vegetation or even going running recreationally. Seriously, why anyone would  _choose_  to run when it isn’t away from some kind of monster or to save their life, Dean didn’t know. But it was just one of those things. A ‘ _Sam thing_ ’.

Allergies were another ‘ _Sam thing_ ’. He had always been plagued with them, ever since he was very young; for as long as Dean could remember, actually. The kid had always suffered bad, resulting in numerous occasions where they had to drive through the night and sleep during the day just so that Sam could be granted a little reprieve between fits, instances where they had to duck out of cases early before they were finished because Dean had been worried that Sam’s airways were going to seize up or those times that Sam didn’t know about when Dean spent all the money that they had on medication for his brother, meaning that he often went without meals.

As they had gotten older, Sam’s immunity to a lot of the substances which had previously bothered him had grown and there weren’t as many things that incited a fit within him now, but there was still the odd occasion where they were caught off guard by a surprise ragweed field or birch tree.

Dean considered himself very lucky; he may have been the one who had a temperamental immune system but aside from cat dander, he had seemingly escaped the hereditary allergies. Well, that and… there was one other thing, but it was so minor that Dean hadn’t thought about it in years. Literally years. He had assumed he had outgrown it, like people sometimes did when it came to things like this.

Which is why when he felt that bristling itch along the length of his palate, trickling its way up the back of his throat and nestling in for a long stay deep within his sinuses, Dean started to grow suspicious.

They had been traveling down this highway en route to Wauconda, Illinois for a couple of hours when it started. Sam had found them some rugaru case in the depths of the town and they had driven all morning to get there. It was the middle of spring and both of them were taking advantage of the warm pleasantry that the weather was boasting. Early mornings still felt crisp, their breath visible on the exhales but as the hours of the days progressed and the sun rose up high to dissipate any last lingering tendrils of clouds, there was a definitive comfortable warmth to the air and left both of them uncharacteristically calm. Neither of them particularly enjoyed the cold bleakness of winter and the warmer the weather, the better impact it had on their moods.

Both windows of the Impala were rolled down, both brothers sporting short sleeves as the wind wisped around their bare skin, contrastingly warming and cooling at the same time. The radio was blaring one of Dean’s retro cassettes, which was lucky for him really, considering that it was pretty easy to mask the sounds of his sniffling when it started.

There had been the faintest trace of a tickle forming somewhere in the back of Dean’s nose for about a hundred miles now, persistent and irksome but it wasn’t enough to ignite into anything more than a slight vexation just yet. He had to physically focus to prevent his hand from wandering up and rubbing at the underside of his nose. There were a couple of occasions when he had grown distracted by Sam talking or a car overtaking and subconsciously allowed his hand to rub and pinch at the irritation before tucking it back to the wheel, hoping that Sam didn’t notice.

But Sam definitely noticed.

He had also noticed the sniffing, the glassy sheen to Dean’s eyes, the way that congestion was just _barely_ creeping in to blunten his consonants. And Dean was a fool if he thought that he was hiding what Sam spotted out of the corner of his eye. His expression, his breathing… Yep, that was definitely-

“ _h_ ’EISS _CHh’iu!_ ”

“Bless you, man.” Sam smirked to himself, contented that his assumption had been correct. He didn’t allow himself to look over towards Dean. He knew his brother got sensitive about shit like this, so he just kept his eyes fixated on the rolling fields sailing past them in a torrent of blurred flora.

Dean chose not to respond, instead just overtly swiped his index finger beneath his nose, stretching his top lip downwards in an attempt to alleviate the itching which seemed to have been provoked further by the last sneeze. He didn’t dare himself to speak, lest he insinuated that something was wrong and whilst he knew that this was something which definitely wasn’t _right,_  Sam needn’t know that.

The sneeze, along with aggravating the desire for more, had brought with it an annoyingly incessant urge to keep sniffling, his nose on the brink of spilling over. Whilst it didn’t feel overly congested, it felt inflamed and irritated against the lining, encouraging it to run in an attempt to flush out whatever it was that was bothering it.

Unfortunately for Dean, he chose an inopportune time to heft a great sniff – just as a few seconds silence filled the car between the songs on the radio – which caused Sam to raise his eyebrows, inquisitive eyes now resting on his brother.

“You alright?” Sam’s voice was accusatory but there was a knot of concern woven somewhere behind the words. He continued to stare at Dean, scrutinizing his appearance as though he could determine exactly what it was that was wrong with his brother by just one sneeze and one sniff. It would have sounded ridiculous to anyone on the outside looking in that Sam would consider there to actually _be_ anything wrong just because Dean had sneezed once, but Sam knew his brother; one sneeze and one sniff was more indicative of what was wrong than anything his brother would ever say to him. And Sam had already concluded that there was something wrong.

Dean just scowled at the road ahead of him for a moment, ears burning with embarrassment as he kept sliding his tongue back and forth against the soft flesh at the back of his throat in an attempt to alleviate the expanding itch which was gradually beginning to trek its way towards his ears.

“Yeah, I’m f--… _hh-!_  ..’m fii _hhh_ … shitshit- _hh’IHH_ **KSH** ’ _iu_!” Dean barely had time to smother the expulsion into his shoulder, the sensation swelling within his nose at an alarming rate, catching him off guard mid-sentence. He didn’t bother to finish speaking, instead just growled under his breath as he rummaged around the floor of the car for something, _anything_ , to try to quell this annoying cloy of an itch.

His hunt was cut short when he felt a massive paw clasp his shoulder and turned to see Sam, who had one hand held out offering a wad of napkins.

“You don’t sound fine.”

Dean took the napkins before folding one over, chucking the rest down on the seat beside him – he had a feeling he’d be needing those later if his nose continued on its mission to destroy his life.

After an unforgiving swipe beneath his nose with the rough fabric, Dean settled himself back in his seat, blinking rapidly against the increasing gritty feeling against his eyes.

“I’m fine, Sam.”

He definitely wasn’t fine. Each inhale appeared to suck in more irritants while each exhale just jostled them around, scraping against the sensitive lining of his eyes, nose and throat. Each breath brought a new wave of itching, ticklish misery, tearing his eyes and stuffing his nose. He knew what this was. But he’d be fucked if it wasn’t as embarrassing as hell.

He glanced back towards Sam who was staring at him with eyes soft yet denunciatory. Dean sighed through his now-parted lips, rubbing a knuckle against the side of his nose as he sniffed once, flinching at the clogged sound he emanated.

“Seriously, I’m alright. Probably just a cold or somethin’.”

“You don’t look very cold-y.” Sam’s voice was hushed, quiet. It was more like he was expressing his thoughts out loud as opposed to addressing Dean directly.  Before Dean could respond, he felt a hand slap against his cheek before raising up to rest against his forehead. The impact caused him to flinch back slightly, startled by the touch and almost veering the car onto the asphalt but soon steadied himself when he realized it was just Sam.

“You don’t _feel_  very cold-y either.”

Dean swatted Sam’s hand away with his own, sniffling again against the back of his wrist, the relenting buzz inside his skull still accentuating with each shaky inhale. He heeled a palm into one of his eyes in an attempt to alleviate the sore gritty feeling but being met with no such luck. He hated this.

“It’s nothin’. Can’t a guy sneeze without being accused of-.. of… hh--!  _HH’ **RRSSH** h’ue!-EISCHH’u! ..hh-! fucknotagain… HH’ **RIISSH** h’uh! ..nggh..”_

After a sniffly recovery, Dean felt a few seeds of something drift up against the hairs on his arm and he squinted down before brushing it away quickly, hoping that Sam didn’t see.

But Sam saw.

“Holy shit, is that..?”

“Shud up, Samb.”

“…what I think it is?”

Whilst Dean wasn’t looking at Sam, he could tell he was smiling. And it wasn’t just an everyday smile, a fond smile or even a forced smile. It was a _I-am-a-little-bitch-and-I-know-it_ smile. The one he always sported whenever he managed to get one up on Dean. And this seemed to be the first time he managed this in what felt like forever.

“Dude, it’s been years. I didn’t even know you still-“

“I dodn’t!” Sam’s almost hyperactive tone was really beginning to grate on Dean’s last nerve and he would have said more had he not felt that clawing, needle-thin twinge right up at the back of his nose, causing his breath to hitch, his eyes to squint as they struggled to keep fixated on the road-

“ _hh_ ’ **DDZ** _SHh’iu!- **TDZS** Hhh’! hh-HH_ **KTSC** _hh-! hihh... **HIRRSSH** H’uh!_”

“Woah, shit. Dean, you okay?”

Sam’s tone had changed from smug to concerned in an instant as the car swerved with each jerk of Dean’s muscles, twitching the car slightly and almost swerving off road. A hand reached over and supported Dean’s shoulder while the other one steadied the wheel, forcing them back straight on the road. His brother was looking worse by the second, eyes streaming and red, nose glistening and flaring, breath hitching. Shit. It had been so long, Sam had forgotten how bad it could get.

“Dean, pull over.” Sam instructed his brother before he gave him chance to respond to his question.

And Dean didn’t object. He managed to sneeze six more times in the minute it took him to find a suitable clearing at the side of the road. As much as he would have usually objected to letting Sam drive his car, the risk of him literally sneezing them off the road was too great.

Once they had swapped, Dean huddled sulkily into the crevice between the passenger seat and the door, the imprint in the leather molded into a Sam-shape rather than a Dean-shape. Which almost made him feel worse than he already did.

Sam had already chucked him some allergy pills and a bottle of water, making sure the windows were wound fully up to avoid making Dean any worse than he was already. It didn’t take long for the pills to take effect and Sam kept glancing over to Dean, his posture more slumped and his eyes remaining closed for longer with each blink. It was only when Sam was certain that Dean was too out of it to retort properly that his smugness returned.

“So, cotton trees, huh? Ain’t that a bitch.”

“Shud up Samb, I swear to god. Why isdn’t this shit affecti’g you?”

Sam glanced over to his brother who hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes, apparently beginning to doze against the window, lips parted, breathing heavy. And Sam couldn’t help himself from smirking, not certain that Dean was even still listening but taking pride in the moment anyway.

“I’m not allergic to cotton trees. That’s really more of a ' _Dean thing_ ’.”


End file.
